


Patience

by lego_hearts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, etc - Freeform, sap, trains of thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lego_hearts/pseuds/lego_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was there for Dean's first breath...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first SPN fic. Ah, back in the day. So it's poor. Sorry.

Castiel was there for Dean's first breath. He watched the screaming, vulnerable little creature as it was passed to John and then to Mary. And he loved him.

God had told Castiel to watch. Never to interfere. To wait.

When Dean took his first steps, Castiel was there. He watched and held back as the little boy stumbled and fell and sometimes cried. Castiel swore that after this he would never let Dean fall-

Sam was born. Castiel sat beside Dean. Their futures had already been written and it seemed so unfair. The things the boys would have to face. And he could do nothing. Not yet.

When Azazel came for Sam, Castiel did nothing. The demon and angel danced around each other. Sam was not his charge. Castiel could not interfere. He could not pull Dean away. He couldn't change this.

The young years of Dean's life were filled with so much hardness and all that Castiel could do was grieve for him. The days the brothers had no food Castiel took it upon himself to ensure some lucky coincidence. His job was to guard and preserve. That is all it was. Not interfering.

Castiel hated the way that Dean relinquished his body to strangers. He hated the anguish of Dean's soul that the flesh of another was used to satisfy. He hated that Dean didn't believe that he was beautiful, because Castiel, in all of his millennia of existence, had never loved anything more beautiful.

The day would come, Dean would know and Castiel had patience.

Sometimes he thought that Dean knew he was there. The way Dean would look in his direction. The way Castiel sometimes felt a movement from within Dean craning towards him-

When Dean lay in hospital in a coma after the car crash, Castiel had to watch from Heaven. Not this time, he was told. Not this time. And Dean's beautiful soul wandered the halls of the hospital. Castiel could see how scared he was, but he could not go to him. Not unless Dean needed him. Not unless, so many rules, so many guidelines, all whilst his beloved hunter was alone-

But Dean was okay on his own. He pulled through and Castiel returned to his side, standing in the corner of the hospital room. It was with equal surprise that he came face to face, as much as that were possible, with the departing soul of John Winchester. Dean's father had looked surprised but then relieved at the sight of the angel, peaceful perhaps as he lingered only a few seconds longer to take in the sight of his boys one last time before he departed for Hell.

Castiel felt the deceit, knowing John had supposed he would be looking after his sons, the Winchester guardian angel. But it was only Dean that Castiel was there for. The deceit gnawed at him as the brothers burnt their father or a pyre, and he stood in the shadows even though they could not see him.

Castiel hated Dean's lack of faith. Nothing else troubled him as much. Nothing else hurt him as much as hearing Dean say he didn't believe in God.

God said nothing about it though.

When Sam died, Castiel stood a little way off. It was more complicated than it had been with John. Now only Dean remained. When Sam turned to look at him, Castiel could meet his eyes.

“Are you here for me?” Sam asked before looking down at Dean, sobbing and holding Sam's body in his arms. His pain wrenched at them both. And it wouldn't even have been difficult for Castiel to put Sam back in. “Please?” Sam was looking at him again. “Don't- don't take me.”

“I'm not here for you,” Castiel replied.

Sam seemed to understand. “Take care of him,” he whispered, satisfied with the nod Castiel gave, allowing the angel to send him Heavenward.

Castiel took up residence in the passenger seat of the Impala. He knew it wasn't over but how and why he wasn't sure and he couldn't tell Dean anyway. He wanted to, so badly. He wanted to give this tempestuous soul a rest, but he couldn't.

He implored with Heaven, with his Father, to let him help when Dean went to the crossroads. To stop any deal being made on the man he loved so deeply. The Holy Hosts declined his request. This was how it had to be.

Castiel hated Sam. He hated the darkness that hung around him, the way it pulled at Dean, the way Dean bowed under it's weight. When he could find a way to help lift it he did, but he could only count down the days with Dean until the end.

Castiel returned to Heaven over Christmas. He couldn't stand the pain in his boy's soul anymore. He couldn't stand being around Sam and his darkness. It wasn't a worthy exchange.

He stood beside Dean constantly as the final days ticked down, whispering to him in comfort and encouragement that Dean couldn't hear. He held his Grace against Dean to calm him as the Hell Hounds barked and clawed. Then he cradled Dean's body against him, empty and dull without his light inside. He'd watched it disappear into Hell, watched the beasts drag it away. Dean hadn't even seen him then. John had seen him, Sam had seen him. Dean never did. Castiel wept.

Now it was time.

His entire existence had been building up to this moment. And the way his Grace burned as he plunged through Hell to that precious soul was an exquisite pain. The plans had been laid out a long time ago. There were sacrifices but Castiel didn't allow that thought to linger. He had to reach Dean.

It took longer than he had hoped to pull Dean free. He had to be a little rougher than he'd wanted to, just for the moment. Dean craned towards him, towards the blinding light of Castiel's presence and that made it easier. The fragile, broken soul clung to the angel and Castiel wrapped around him. He loved him.

It had taken a lot out of Castiel. It had been a difficult mission. His Grace was weak but Dean's soul was worse. The two of them lay cocooned in Castiel's wings like caterpillars whilst Castiel put Dean back together piece by piece, sometimes at his own expense, sometimes working for days on one part, then spending a week just resting with Dean. And maybe he was lingering a little long, maybe he was hoarding Dean just a little longer than necessary, but the day was going to come when he would have to put Dean back onto that violent earth and watch it destroy him again, and he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet.

Finally he was done. Dean was whole again. The only sign of anything untoward was the mark on his shoulder where Castiel had pulled him out. The angel had spent so many hours on the scar, gently tending to it, trying to remove it. But he had marked Dean. And secretly he didn't mind.

The day came when Dean had to return. Castiel unwrapped them both from the nest of his wings, and even the scape of Heaven seemed so harsh and unforgiving.

He set Dean back upon the earth, kissed him softly and promised him he would return soon.


End file.
